Trisha gazed at her brother, her dark tendrils hovering around a raised finger, her eyes filled with a blend of fondness and regret.

“You might not be strong enough for my world as yet, but you are certainly on your own path.”

When she finished speaking her finger touched Alric on his forehead. As her fingertip made contact with Alric's forehead, a pulse of dark magic coursed through his body. His form was enveloped in a shroud of inky blackness, and his eyes snapped wide open.

The moment Alirc’s eyes opened he flew out of Trisha’s arms and covered himself in the protective coat of the Kludde contract and adopted a defensive stance.

Her chuckle, filled with a hint of amusement, resonated in the tense air.

“We don’t have time to play anymore, little brother.”

Trisha remarked, her tone tinged with urgency.

Alric's initial confusion and fear dissipated as he took a closer look at the Blackdeath. Recognition washed over him as he gasped,

“Trish!”

Without hesitation, Alric dispelled the protective cloak and embraced his sister tightly, a mixture of joy and disbelief coursing through him.

"Come on, Alric,"

Trisha began, attempting to pry him off gently,

"We don't have time for this. I have a mission to complete."

Reluctantly, she withdrew from the hug, her gaze filled with longing. Alric, however, had a flurry of questions that demanded answers.

“But wait! If you’re the Blackdeath?!”

Alric’s mind began connecting the dots.

“But how did you get this powerful in only a year?”

Alric looked at his sister from head to toe and remembered her fighting the royal guards and their elite units completely outnumbered. Her current strength defied logic, leaving him in awe.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Are you at the ninth circle?”

he asked, his voice filled with both admiration and a touch of envy. Achieving the ninth circle was a feat that few mages ever accomplished in their lifetime, let alone at the age of sixteen. Being a ninth circle mage at the age of sixteen was unheard of in the entire history of the continent.

Trisha offered a wry smile before responding,

“I am only at the eighth circle, but I have my methods to hit far above my weight”

She flexed her muscles playfully, her cheeky grin returning a glimpse of her old self. Alric couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy.

He was two years younger, stuck at the sixth circle, and it seemed that the gap between their abilities was insurmountable. For her to be two circles ahead of him was unreal. afterall, the time between each circle would only become longer and longer until a mage stagnated.

If it took him three years to get to the sixth circle, then logically it would take six years to get to the seventh and twelve to get to eight.

As though realizing what Alric was thinking, Trisha flicked him on the forehead.

“Don’t beat yourself up. The first eight circles are pretty easy to get. It’s the last eight that you need to worry about.”

Alric smiled shyly, feeling he had been seen through. His shy smile in response spoke volumes about his admiration for his sister and his determination to improve.

“Okay, enough about strength. What are you doing here?”

Hearing Alric change the topic, Trisha got up and patted herself. Before changing into a cold and distant personality.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to rid this kingdom of every one of those corrupt noble pigs."

Alric's ears perked up at her words, astonished by the transformation in his sister's personality. He had never imagined that his loving and caring sister would adopt such a dark alter ego. The bond of blood between them felt stronger than ever, despite the disparities in their talents.

As Trisha finished speaking, two black orbs materialized before her and released two disheveled men onto the ground. Earl Braveheart was drained and weakened, while Lord Vivian immediately began to beg for his life.

“Nice to meet you again, Earl Braveheart and Lord Vivian.

My brother and I would like to ask you a few questions.”

But amidst the pleas and despair, Earl Braveheart's keen eyes caught something peculiar.

“Brother?"

He looked from the Blackdeath to Alric and back, the resemblance between the two now strikingly apparent.

A distant memory resurfaced from the depths of his mind, a time when he had visited their household as a mere baron. Earl Braveheart chuckled, recognizing the irony of his current situation.

Realizing who the two siblings were, Earl Braveheart understood what was going on.

“Well, If it isn’t the consequences of our own action.”

He chuckled realizing the irony of his situation.

“Nice to meet you again, Lady Trisha of the Dimachaerus Family.”

Hearing the family name Lord Vivian eyes opened wide in disbelief.

“But all of those monsters are supposed to be dead!”

Vivian tried his best to reject the reality before him.

Meanwhile Braveheart who was still trapped in his thoughts recollected a warning he had received;

‘That boy feels like an agent of nothing but chaos, I would say all you’re doing is feeding your enemy.’

Braveheart laughed mockingly as he heard the headmaster's words repeat in his head feeling the sting of regret.

‘I guess you were right this time, old friend.’

Braveheart gulped understanding the torment he was about to receive.